


If I Don’t Laugh, I’ll Cry

by tonbosan



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-29 08:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20078965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonbosan/pseuds/tonbosan
Summary: Almost a year after the walker plague has ended, Nick attempts to cope with what he’s been through by making his stand-up debut. This story takes place roughly six years after TWDG Season 2, with flashbacks.





	1. Chapter 1

Nick leans against the wall of a dimly lit bar called The Well, arms crossed, wearing his lucky Melvins T-shirt that was among the few belongings left behind in his house spared by who knows how many looters. He’s the last up tonight, his first time doing stand-up, and while it’s just a free Monday night show in a small town bar basement a few hundred miles southeast of Memphis, the place is packed and he’s getting nervous. The other acts, a mix of unknown newcomers and unknown ‘veterans’, had received mixed responses and made barely any mention of the ‘Walker Plague’, as it was being called, that had ravaged the world a little less than a year ago and wiped out nearly 60% of the population.

His show would be different.

The MC, also one of the bartenders, a middle-aged man named Darby with a vicious looking gash across the right side of his face and a two week strawberry blond beard, finishes up his between sets patter and starts introducing him.

“And last but no doubt not least, making his comedy debut here at The Well, please give a very warm welcome to Niiiiick Raaaaandall!”

Nick walks onstage to mildly enthusiastic applause and takes the mic, shaking Darby’s hand.

“Thank you everyone. Being here brings back some memories. I used to come here and get drunk sometimes, but that was before...” He pauses, surveying the crowd - half of them have their eyes on him, the rest are chatting quietly or looking down at their phones. “...They started up these comedy nights.”

Nick clears his throat. His nerves are killing him and the joint of his severed finger is beginning to throb. He holds his right hand up to the spotlight and peers through the hole where his middle finger used to be. More of the audience is staring at him, though they look unphased by the injury. He brings his hand back down to grip the mic on its stand.

“Yeah, so, uh, it’s been weird getting used to things. Like, it’s such a little thing, one finger, you know. You wouldn’t think it would make much of a difference, but it does. Typing is different, eating is different, shaking hands is a little weird, I have to remember to use my left hand to flip people off.”

He brings his maimed hand up again and fake-winces as he tries to give the crowd the finger. It gets a few chuckles.

“Jerking off is the most different, though,” he continues, and the laughs get a little louder.

“At first I though it’d be worse, right, ‘cause you have less grip, and I was about to switch to my left, when I realized, ‘hey, there’s a very conveniently placed extra hole here’.” At this, more people burst out laughing and Nick mimes his technique for a few seconds.

“So there’s a silver lining. But how did I get this, you may wonder.”

He pauses again, and the laughter has died down. No going back now, Nick thinks.

***

They’ve been walking for days on end and slowly starving. It’s just the two of them now, after the rest of the survivors left them at the cabin across from the frozen lake. Luke was in no shape to leave right away, and there was just no room in the car for all of them - Kenny, Jane, Clem, A.J., Nick, and Luke - with enough food and water. No way was he leaving Luke behind. It had hurt to part with Clem - she’d wanted them to all stay together somehow, but supplies were running low, baby formula was an urgent priority, and she and A.J. would have more chance of surviving in the car with Kenny and Jane than on foot with him and Luke.

Luke had taken another two days to rest and recover some from his sub-zero swim, and the various older injuries to his ribs and leg. Nick had been in better shape, but the gunshot wound on his shoulder - bandaged with a torn off strip of bedsheet - would take time to heal.

They had set out almost two weeks ago and had long finished what they could find that was edible in the cabin. Now they were subsisting on river water filtered through a piece of pillowcase and the occasional fish Luke could spear with his machete, or crawdad or crab either of them could whack with their gun butts. They were saving their bullets for walkers, who tended to roam around the area now and then in groups of around five to ten. Not that they saw any other creatures about, other than insects, reptiles, and birds. The mammals seemed to have all but disappeared. And the freshwater fish were growing scarcer and scarcer.

“We gotta find somewhere else to hunt, man,” Nick says at the end of a second day of dinners consisting of a few spiders and worms.

Luke sighs, looking gaunter than ever and uncharacteristicly glum. “I know,” he says, and spreads his hands. “But where? We haven’t seen any signs of civilization anywhere round here. And this is our water source.”

“Let’s just pick a direction then. We can toss a bullet, go where it points. I dunno.” Nick sighs and sits down next to the riverbank, head hunched between his knees. “I’m so fucking beat.”

Luke sits down next to him. “Yeah, me too. And my leg keeps spazzing on me when I put too much weight on it.”

He puts a hand on Nick’s back, pats it once. “But what do you want me to say? I don’t have all the answers.”

“Never said you did,” Nick replies, leaning back slightly, savouring the warmth of Luke’s hand. “Though you often thought so.”

“Well, that was then.” Luke lifts his hand from between Nick’s shoulder blades and tosses some sand into the water, watching the ripples form around it.

They sit next to each other silently for a few moments while the sky grows darker.

“I miss ‘em.”

“Me too,” Nick says.

“Becks.”

“Alvin.”

“Sarah.”

“Carlos.”

“Uncle Pete.” Nick swallows and chews his lip. He remembers being so helpless when it happened, so angry at himself.

“Jane.”

Nick smirks at him. “I’ll bet.”

“Shut up.” There’s a pause. “Sarita.”

“Sarita.... Fuck me, I even miss Florida Man.”

Luke giggles. “He know you call him that?”

“No. He called me Vanilla Ice, remember? Which makes no sense. Anyway, he is so Florida Man. If you googled Kenny I bet all these mugshots would come up with headlines like ‘Florida Man Illegally Docks Sailboat with Alligator Family of Five Aboard It’.”

“I miss googling.”

“I miss Clem.”

“Oh yeah. I really miss her.”

“Ya think she’s alright?” Nick asks.

“Yeah, she’s probably doing better’n we are.”

“We should, look for some bugs, or moss, or something.”

“Firewood. I’m starting to shiver and it’s only gonna get colder tonight.”

***

“I’m telling you, Florida Man was fucking out of control with this Russian kid, like he was auditioning for a Red Dawn remake, beating up on this scrawny little guy with cracked glasses, calling him commie and Russkie like my racist dad.”

Nick pauses for breath. He can’t tell how much the crowd is into this part, if his story about losing his finger had gone too dark and meandering, maybe too real for some of them.

“So GI Jane tries to get him to lay off, and honestly folks, like I told you, GI Jane is someone you don’t wanna get into it with. She shot Ferret Face’s dick off, remember? You don’t wanna say no to her. Luke certainly didn’t. ‘How’s about I ride you while you’re supposed to be watching the perimeter for walkers?’ ‘No problem, Jane. Damn, that was the best four and a half minutes I’ve had in months. Actually that was the only time I’ve gotten any in months.’ And this guy still gets laid ten times more than I do. You know, he’s /that/ guy, with the tousled hair, the charming smile, the machete strapped to his back like he’s Indiana Jones, all he’s missing is a whip and a fedora - girls swarm to him like flies to bullshit. And there I was, thinking, why didn’t she ask me, I wasn’t supposed to be doing anything important for these four and a half minutes, like making sure a horde of walkers wasn’t breaching the goddamn compound we’re all in!”

Nick pauses for another breath, many in the crowd are cackling now. He grins a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I got sidetracked.”

***

The next day, they gather what remains of their strength and hike deeper into the forest, away from the river. They hadn’t tossed a bullet, just decided they might have more luck foraging and hunting in there.

They find a dirt road about an hour in, and walk down it, hoping it leads to a park ranger station they can take shelter at. Eventually they come across a small stream down a narrow, rocky path a little ways, visible from the roadside. The remains of a campsite are scattered around it - a long dead fire pit with a roasting spit, empty bottles and cans, animal bones. Nearby, a large tire swing hangs from a tree branch, and not far from it an axe lies next to a wide stump with several long slices of wood on the ground next to it.

“Looks like they left in a while ago,” Luke remarks, peering at the label of one of the discarded plastic bottles. “This mineral water expired early last year.”

“Dibs on the axe,” Nick says, picking it up and feeling its weight. “You already have a machete.”

“We better find something to eat soon,” Luke says, sitting on the tire swing. He rubs a palm across his forehead. “I’m getting too lightheaded to walk much more.”

A bird flies overhead, emitting a harsh cry. Nick’s peers up at it from under the brim of his hat. “I may have an idea.”

***

“So my plan actually works - the slingshots we make out of twigs and tire treads keep us fed for the next couple days and we haven’t seen any walkers in ages. But of course good things didn’t last long back then, if they ever did, and on our second night there almost a dozen of them come through the trees, heading straight toward us.”

Nick takes a breath. There’s nothing funny he can think of to say at this point, but at least he’s still got people’s attention, more or less; the bar’s low lighting makes it difficult to tell.

“Luke shakes me awake and we grab our weapons and run. It’s still before dawn so we can hardly see where we’re going, almost crashing into trees and tripping over bramble, but we come to a large clump of rocks, almost chest level, and climb up ‘em, thinking we’ll be able to pick off the walkers from up there. It’s not a bad idea, and we shoot about half of them before another bunch shows up. Pretty soon we’re out of bullets.”

***

“Don’t worry, they can’t climb,” Luke says.

“You sure about that? This pile of rocks isn’t that high.”

“Time to use that axe of yours.”

Luke pulls out his machete and kneels down to spear the closest walker in the eye, grunting as he yanks the gunk smeared blade out.

Nick swings his axe down at the one next to it, severing most of its head from its shoulders, but struggles to pull the weapon back out. He gets it on the third pull, but by then without thinking he’s slid his hands down the handle to try and get a stronger grip. The half decapitated creature claws at his fingers as he’s pulling the axe up and Nick feels the burn of skin breaking just abovethe nail of his right middle finger.

“Fuck!” Nick drops the axe and staggers backward, clutching his wrist. He isn’t certain that the infection can pass through scratches, but he doesn’t want to find out firsthand.

“Luke, cut it off now!”

“Shit, Nick!” Luke grabs his wrist and pulls them to the ground, pressing Nick’s palm to the surface of the rock, damp with dew.

“Shit, shit,” he hisses, hesitating.

“Do it now or you’ll have to kill me - c’mon, dammit!”

The machete slices through skin and bone. Nick screams sickeningly as his finger is severed. Blood spurts out of the wound and he covers the injured hand with the intact one. He’s never felt so much pain in his life.

Then Nick passes out.

When he wakes up, he’s lying on his back and Luke’s wrapping something around his hand. The wound’s throbbing like crazy and Nick’s dizzy and feels like he might throw up.

“There,” Luke says quietly. “They’re all gone now. I got ‘em all.” He pats Nick’s shoulder. “Now there’s just you.”

Nick stares up at him and sees the sleeve of his sweatshirt is ragged and shorter on one side, where he’d cut it to bandage his hand with, he realizes.

He groans and rolls to one side. His chest heaves, but nothing comes out.

“Talk to me, tell me you’re still there.” Luke gazes at him worriedly, face drawn.

“I’m still here,” he manages. “Minus a finger, anyway.” He grits his teeth. “Fuck it hurts.”

“That means you’re alive.” Luke’s features relax a little. “Anyway, we gotta get out of here. Could be more of ‘em coming.”

He helps Nick to his feet, and Nick examines his banaged hand, three remaining fingers sticking out of it.

“My guitar playing will never be the same.”

“Eh, you weren’t that good anyway.”

“Fuck you very much. And thanks - it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Just don’t scare me like that again.”

***

“You know what happens after you start eating bugs regularly? After you’ve become so hungry you just start eyeing every little thing with legs like it’s caviar? Once thing’s’re back to normal, you’re still in bird mode.”

Nick takes a sip of water and looks at the audience. He hasn’t given them anything to laugh at in awhile. Some of them have left, others are chatting quietly at the bar or sipping their drinks and staring off into space.

He’d thought it’d be therapeutic to go onstage like this and talk to people about stuff that had happened to him during the bad old days. He’d thought it might hold back the nightmares a bit, tone down the panic attacks. But now he suspects it won’t make much difference. He doubts he’ll do it again.

“Just the other night, I couldn’t sleep, as usual, so I got out of bed, went downstairs to see if I had any beer left in the fridge, and when I opened the door, this big brown spider runs out from underneath it, and I just grab at it, catlike, and squeeze the poor thing in my little three-fingered fist and pop it right in my mouth. And I’m thinking to myself, ‘What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I ever gonna be the way I was before?’”

***

They had followed the road in the forest to a highway, but by then had almost run out of food - Luke had nabbed a blackbird with his slingshot yesterday, and they had eaten some ants and a couple worms for breakfast. Animal sightings had grown rarer and rarer. On top of that, they were low on water. It hadn’t rained after they had filled up their bottles at the last stream they passed, and they had perhaps a day’s supply left.

On the bright side, walkers seemed to also have become scarcer. Nick and Luke walked by the side of the highway, figuring it would lead to a city or town where they might be able to find some tinned food that was still edible and hadn’t been scavenged, and some humans, which they hadn’t seen for a long while, it seemed.

Nick’s hand had been healing slowly, probably because they were eating so poorly, but at least it hadn’t become infected. It still hurt, but the pain, like their near constant hunger, was dull and often faded into the background like static.

“We’re gonna starve, aren’t we?” Nick says. It’s a shitty way to die, he thinks. Not as shitty as being turned into the walking dead, but still pretty damn shitty.

“Just keep moving,” Luke replies.

“Luke, I need to rest.”

“Just a little further, alright?”

Nick sighs. He feels like he’s gonna collapse any minute. He glances at his watch and realizes he’s forgotten to wind it. As he starts to twist the tiny knob, he wonders how much it matters, at this point.

They finally sit down at a telephone pole, the two of them leaning back against it at right angles. Luke surveys the dessicated landscape of dusty, reddish earth with clumps of rocks and sparse patches of dying shrubs. Vultures would not be out of place here, but it appears as though they have vanished as well.

Nick sinks his head into his knees and clasps his hands over his face. After several seconds he starts sobbing quietly.

“Nick...” Luke turns to him.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Luke.” His voice, filtered through skin and shirtsleeves, is muffled and ragged.

“Good,” Luke edges closer to him, “‘Cause I wasn’t gonna say it.”

He puts an arm around his trembling shoulders, bringing the other one to rest on top of Nick’s hands, one wrapped in a bloody strip of his sweatshirt.

Nick leans into him, close enough now to feel the pulse of Luke’s neck match the one in his thumb.

They stay like that for a few minutes until the air crackles with thunder and a vein of lightning divides the horizon. Drops begin to fall. It’s the first rain since they’ve been on their own.

“Fuck yeah!” Luke lets go of him and punches the air. Nick breathes a sigh of relief, but the shame of again showing that he’s the weaker, more emotional one, still lingers.

They quickly swig what’s remaining in their bottles and hold them to the sky as the rain pours down harder.

Hours later, they are still walking along the same unknown highway, and the rain shows no signs of letting up.

“Too much of a good thing, huh,” Luke remarks, wiping his dripping brow.

“A good thing would be finding a house with a well-stocked pantry along with Clem ‘n’ the rest of ‘em.”

“Yeah, well this road has to lead somewhere. Whole cities don’t just up and disappear. It just seems like it’s taking so long to come across anything ‘cause we’re on foot, and not exactly in the best of health.”

“I sure hope we don’t have to sleep in the rain,” Nick grumbles. “God, I’m so famished I don’t know that I could stop myself from wolfing down walker meat if we come across any more of those fuckers. I’m at the point where I wish we’d brought along my missing finger to munch on. No wonder they’re so goddam hungry for us - there’s nothing else left.”

***

Darby gives him the signal that he’s got about five minutes to wrap it up, and Nick’s relieved. He’s already tired of being under the spotlight, milking some of the worst moments of his life for free entertainment. And yet it’s admittedly felt good getting some of the hellishness of all those near death experiences off his chest, where they’d been festering like a particularly tenacious virus.

He scans the crowd for Luke, who’d told him he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make his show, or make all of it, since he had a physical therapy group session tonight at Memphis General and he wasn’t sure how long it would run. Since Nick would now soon be exploiting the worst moments of his

Iife for the audience’s amusement, he’s a little concerned about how Luke would take it, even though he was by far the cooler headed of the two of them. But it’s too crowded and dark back there to get a good look at people. Nick hopes Luke’s there more than he worries about his reaction.

“Yeah, so if any of you folks have, say, an ant problem or something like that, just give me a call, I’ll come right over, and you don’t have to worry about any cancerous pesticides with their nauseating fumes. Plus it’s completely organic and eco-friendly. Future forward and shit.”

Scattered laughter.

“But back to starvation highway, the rain still hadn’t let up, and it was now well into twilight. I caught a movement underneath one of the clusters of rocks ahead of us.”

***

“Did you see that?”

“No, what?” Luke says, looking to where Nick’s pointing.

“Something’s inside those rocks.”

“Okay, let’s have a look.”

They creep over to the pile of rocks, soaked through to their bones and trying not to shiver. Just then the rain finally stops, and they both breathe a sigh of relief and stare down at the rocks, which now seem completely still.

Nick pushes at the one where he saw movement with the tip of his axe and nearly drops it when a rattlesnake shoots its head out and sinks its fangs into the wood right above the blade.

“Shit!”

He twists the handle around, trying to shake it off, but before Nick can, Luke slices its neck clean through with his machete. Both parts of the creature drop to the ground, twitching.

“And we have dinner,” Luke says, smiling wearily.

“Fuck, man, great reflexes.”

“Great eyes,” he replies. Nick can’t help but smile back.

It takes forever to start a fire, with the few pieces of wood they’d taken with them from the forest too wet to be of much use till they can dry them off a little against the rocks and get the end of one of them to catch with their half empty lighter. By then they’re almost delirious with hunger and barely able to cook the snake long enough before plucking it from the flames and chopping it into toasty,bite-sized chunks.

“Tastes like chicken, right?” Luke says between mouthfulls.

“Mmm.” Nick licks his lips. “Maybe when this is all over we should start farming ‘em. If the other animals have really all died out, then snakes are gonna be the new chickens.”

“My next business venture.” He positions his hands to look like a sign. “Luke’s snake steaks.”

Nick chuckles. “Against my better judgment, count me in.”

Luke gets a gleam in his eye. “But first we need to take a vacation, get away from all this Survivor shit.”

“I’d suggest Vegas, if I didn’t fucking hate Vegas,” Nick remarks.

“Nope, we’re going to the tropics. Surf and sunshine. Passion fruit and Piña Coladas.”

“You sound like a fucking brochure.”

“Aruba, Jamaica, ooh, I wanna take ya,” Luke starts to sing, barely in tune, beating out a rhythm on the damp ground.

Nick cringes. “Oh fuck no, you’ve tortured me enough with that song in the car.”

Luke sways from side to side in a loose rhythm. “Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama...”

“I’m gonna shove my axe handle down your throat if you keep going.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, sing with me,” Luke says brightly, and continues. “Key Largo, Montego, baby, why don’t we go?”

It had grown so dark and they had been so distracted by Luke’s rendition of ‘Kokomo’ that they hadn’t noticed the walker quietly creeping up behind them till it reaches its decaying arms toward Luke, rasping.

Nick spots it first. “Luke, behind you!” he shouts.

The walker, a tall, muscular tank of a man wearing a half shredded army jacket, grabs at Luke’s shoulders, drooling. He tries to roll to one side, but its thick, rough hands keep him pinned. It’s about to bite into Luke’s neck when Nick swings his axe into its face, knocking it backwards and releasing Luke.

They both stand up as the walker gets back on its feet, a section of its cheek hanging off the side of its face, but otherwise looking relatively unhurt.

“Are you scratched?”

“No, but - shit, there’s one behind it too!”

A short walker, perhaps a teenage girl or boy - it’s hard to tell in the near darkness - staggers toward them a few paces behind the first one.

Luke pulls out his machete. “You take shorty,” he says shakily.

Before Nick can object - the tall walker looks like it’ll take the both of them to off it without guns - Luke runs toward it and hacks at its throat, eliciting a sickening squelching sound. It falls to its knees, clawing at the blade lodged in the side of its neck. Luke yanks on the handle, but loses his grip, and the machete slides out of the wound and clatters to the ground.

Meanwhile Nick has lured the second walker away from them and swings his axe at it, but his aim is poor and he only clips its side, barely harming it.

Luke kicks the kneeling walker hard in the chest and it falls backward, but grabs his foot, pulling him to the ground. He cries out as he falls, and tries to kick his shoe off after he’s flat on his back.

Nick curses when he sees Luke fall and nearly forgets about the walker advancing on him. He swings at it again and catches it hard in the chest, knocking it over.

Luke finally pulls his foot free, leaving the large walker clutching at an empty shoe as its partially severed neck leaks what must have at one point been blood onto the damp earth beneath it. Still on his back, he catches sight of his dropped machete within reach, and twists onto his side to grab it.

Nick stands over the flailing, rasping walker and realises it used to be a teenage girl. She looks like she could pass for an older sister of Clem, and he feels more than a little sick as he raises up his axe to decapitate her.

Machete now in hand, Luke starts to push himself to his feet, but the walker drops his shoe and reaches for his leg. Luke swipes at its hand, cutting off two of its fingers, but loses his balance in the process and falls down again.

“Fuck!”

“Luke, you alright? I’m coming,” Nick calls to him, kicking the severed walker girl’s head away so he doesn’t have to see it a second longer.

Just as he reaches the spot where Luke and the walker are struggling, he sees it grab at Luke’s foot again, now with only two fingers left, the other hand still clutching at its gouged, oozing neck.

“No,” Nick breathes as he sees Luke’s face twist with pain. The walker digs its thumb and remaining fingers deep into the skin right above his ankle.

“Ahhh, cut it off, cut it off!” Luke yells as blood trickles down onto his sock.

“Oh god, oh fuck,” Nick mutters. He takes a deep breath, swings his axe high, and brings it down onto Luke’s shin as hard as he possibly can.

***


	2. Chapter 2

“Slicing a guy’s leg off - a guy who happens to be your oldest, closest friend, and for all you can tell your last friend in the universe at this point, is...still not as bad as getting your leg sliced off, with a goddam axe found in the middle of the woods and no anasthetic or even a fucking bandaid.”

There are a few nervous giggles from the audience.

“Seriously, I don’t know how this guy’s still alive. After surviving being beaten half to hell by Great Dictator Il Carver, shot by Russian thugs, dunked in a frozen over lake, and now this? I’ve a theory he’s either one of Wolverine’s illigitimate kids or a legit jedi.”

There’s some light laughter, and Nick searches again for Luke in the crowd.

“He may even be here tonight, folks, so give him a big hand in case he is.”

There’s some clapping and whistling, but it dies down quickly. Time to wrap this up, Nick thinks.

***

“Luke, wake up, please wake up.”

Nick’s got him laid out on the ground by the side of the road, a patch of dry grass for a pillow. It’s early morning and Luke’s been unconscious for hours.

Nick had taken care of the walker, more viciously than he’d ever done before, hacking its face into unrecognizable pulpy clumps while Luke screamed himself hoarse. He’d then pulled Luke’s sock off of his severed foot and quickly pulled it over the bleeding stump. Next he had taken off his Chasers T-shirt and wrapped it as tightly as he could around Luke’s shin. Luke had passed out a moment afterwards.

Too tired to try and restart the fire, Nick had gathered the leftover rattlesnake meat and stashed it in his pack with his water bottle, empty gun, and slingshot. Then he’d lain down next to Luke and put a hand on his throat, searching for a pulse. It felt normal, though his skin was cool and damp with sweat.

Unable to stay awake and keep watch, Nick had curled up next to him and fallen asleep. “If they get us, they get us,” he’d said to Luke, laying an arm across his chest, his wrapped up hand throbbing faintly. “Not like we’d be able to put up much of a fight anyway.”

Luke hadn’t responded, and Nick had tried not to think about the possibility that he’d turn during the night.

When he’d woken up several hours later, Luke had looked exactly the same. Nick had pulled him away from the remains of their fire and the putrid bodies of the two walkers, to the roadside next to a telephone pole. He’d leaned against the pole, slowly chewing on a piece of charred snake, unsure whether he should let Luke sleep in whatever state of uncomsciousness he was or more forcefully try to wake him up.

After he’d started to pull the sock, now stiff and red brown, off of Luke’s leg stump so he could get some sunlight on it and clean off any signs of infection, Luke had grimaced and moaned slightly, but remained asleep.

“C’mon, Luke, wake up. I don’t know what else to do!”

He chews on his thumb, wondering if he has the strength to carry him. He gets his arms underneath him and tries lifting him up. Luke groans as he does, hid eyelids fluttering as Nick wobbles under the weight, bracing himself against the pole so he doesn’t drop him.

Nick manages to walk several paces down the side of the road, but it’s no use; he’s too malnourished to carry him further. Nick lays him back down on the ground, letting his head go a little too fast so it bumps against the dry grass.

Luke winces, and finally stirs awake. “Ugh, mmph,” he slurs, blinking several times.

Nick breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god.”

“Nick?”

“I tried carrying you, but I can’t, not for more than a few steps anyway. D’ya think you’ll be able to lean against me and we can try and walk together, kinda like a three-legged race?”

“I...water,” Luke sighs, then grimaces in pain and grits his teeth, sucking in air.

“Yeah, here.” Nick picks up his water bottle. “Can you sit up?”

Luke tries, but can barely lift his shoulders off the ground.

“You probably lost too much blood. Let me lift your head up then.”

After he’s given Luke some water, Nick pulls him up so that he’s leaned back against the pole.

“Think you can manage to eat some leftovers?”

Luke nods, but he’s looking grim.

“It really hurts,” he half-whispers. “Even if I don’t move.”

“It was like that with my finger at first...then it kind if faded into the background after a while, like white noise.”

He hands Luke a piece of burnt snake. “Here. There’re a few more pieces left. You can have ‘em, maybe later though.”

“‘s probably a waste.”

“Don’t say that, alright? I’m used to just one of us thinking like that. You’re the still the optimist, got it?”

“I think I’m done, Nick,” Luke sighs and closes his eyes. “I’m really tired. Feel like I might fall asleep again.”

“Luke, just don’t give up. Please don’t give up.” Nick swallows, trying to hold back tears. “You’re the only reason I’ve been trying to stay alive. Back when

I was trapped in that shed after Pete died, I wanted to be done with it, to just let them get me already, but I still had you, and-dammit, you’re probably not even listening.” He wipes his eyes. “Fuck everything.”

“I am listening, there’s just not much I can do right now. Maybe, tomorrow I’ll be able to...I don’t know.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Nick. Guess you’ve been right all along. We were never gonna make it through this.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t think to save two bullets,” Nick says bitterly, picking up a pebble and tossing it onto the highway.

Luke says nothing, and Nick decides to shut up and left him try and rest. He gets up and searches every cluster of rocks he can find nearby for more snakes, snake eggs, bugs, anything that could possibly be edible, and finds a few worms, but nothing else. All the while he’s blaming himself for Luke’s injury, telling himself he shouldn’t have listened to him, and backed him up against that imposing walker from the start, just like how he shouldn’t have listened to Pete and convinced him to get out of there right away when they came across the slaughtered bodies, or been faster at taking down those walkers, or....

When he returns, Luke’sawake, staring blearily into the distance, as the sun grows brighter overhead.

“Hey,“ he says. “I was hoping you’d be back soon.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t find much, but if you’re in the mood for worms, it’s your lucky day.”

“I’m in the mood for a piss, actually. I, uh, didn’t really wanna do it where we were sitting.”

“Oh, right. Uh, lemme see if I can carry you to the pole across the road. You can mark your territory.”

After he carries Luke back to where he was sitting, Nick sits down next to him, panting for breath.

“So, I came up with a plan,” Luke starts.

“Really?” Nick perks up.

“Yeah, you probably won’t like it. I sure don’t. But it’s all I’ve got.”

“Oh.” His heart sinks.

“Your best chance of staying alive is to leave. Just keep walking, keep scavenging, hunting, shoot birds, snakes, whatever. There’s gotta be a city down there somewhere.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, I knew you’d say that. So here’s Plan B: we wait. Maybe after some time I’ll be able to do the three-legged thing with you, but that’s provided we have food and water. If we don’t, then, when it gets unbearable, we can use my machete.” He moves a forefinger across his throat. “Sharpen it up on one of those rocks first, though. Me first, then you.”

Nick looks away and rubs his temples with his good hand. “What’s Plan C?”

“I dunno,” Luke shrugs grimly. “Join the walkers, I guess.”

“Your plans suck.”

“You got anything better?”

“No, but I’m not like you. Always wished I was, but....”

“I’m glad you’re not. I like you how you are.”

“Yeah, you would.”

They spend the next few hours lying by the roadside, half asleep, clinging together like a pair of discarded kittens. Nick dreams they’re in his car, back when things were just shittily normal instead of a living hellscape, with Luke singing along to every craptastic thing that came on the pop station to his burning irritation.

He wakes up and looks over at Luke, whose eyes are closed. Nick pokes him.

“Hey, you awake?”

“I am now,” he murmurs. “What is it?”

“Nothing. We’re still fucked.”

“So fucked.”

Nick sits up on his elbows. “Come to think of it, I can barely remember the last time I was fucked.”

“That long ago, was it?”

“Yeah. No. Maybe. It was before all this.”

“Anyone I know? What was her name?”

“I...can’t remember.”

“Did you even get a name?”

“I can’t remember.”

Luke laughs. “Well alright then.”

“I remember I had a lot of tequila that night. And these weird strawberry peanut churros.”

“Sounds delicious.”

They’re silent for a few moments. Then Luke tries to sit up.

He groans as he tries to pull himself up against the pole. “Urgh, it still hurts so damn much.”

“You know, you’re doing pretty well considering,” Nick says, helping him balance his back against it again.

“Yeah, well, my dancing days are definitely over.”

“But your pirate captain days are only just beginning.”

Luke chuckles. “Yeah, we should reach Kokomo, oh, any day now. I’ll really be able to grow into my role there.”

“Fucking Bermuda triangle. Why’s it always gotta be such a goddam bitch?”

“But seriously, I’m glad we at least lasted this long. That’s gotta be worth something, right?”

“C’mon Luke, how long have we known each other? I’ve never seen you give up on anything, on anyone, least of all yourself. Even when you look like you’re on your last-“

“Don’t. Just, maybe we should give it a rest for a bit.” Luke frowns and looks away.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I’m still working on trying to be the new Mr Brightside so we can die happy, I guess.”

Luke’s about to say something when his eyes widen and he freezes.

“What is it? You see a snake, walker, what?”

“Can you hear that?”

“Obviously not.” Nick cocks his head. “At least I don’t think so.”

“Something’s coming,” Luke says excitedly. “From that way.” He points in the direction they’ve been walking.

“Are you using the force or some shit? I can’t hear anything,” Nick replies, his voice edged with frustration.

And then he does.

“Holy shit, you’re right,” Nick gasps. In the desolate silence of the empty landscape, he can now just barely make out the low vibrations of a motor.

***

“By that point, I’d begun to feel like we were the last living things around, soon to be extinct. And even after I’d heard the engine, I was still afraid it wasn’t real. But then I saw the truck, a long-hauler like the one my cousin used to drive, and though I’ve never been much of a believer, it felt like there was some kinda deus ex machina at work, and this fucked up universe had finally cut us a break.” He paused. “‘Course that’s assuming it’d actually pick us up and not run us over. But I’m here, aren’t I?”

There’s scattered laughter and applause; the place has been emptying out over the past several minutes. Nick’s about to end when he finally catches sight of him, sitting at a table by the far corner of the bar, in conversation with an athletic looking young woman on crutches. Typical, probably picked her up at the therapy group. Then he looks up and their eyes meet. Luke grins and raises his mug of what is probably whatever cheap crap’s on tap. Nick quickly smiles back and wonders how long he’s been there.

“Uh, anyway, that’s it for tonight, folks. Lots of other fun stuff happened afterwards - and before - that I don’t have time to tell you about, ‘cause I’ve already gone way overtime. Thanks, see ya,” he mumbles hurriedly, handing the mic to Darby, who shoots him a look that’s a mixture of impatience and relief, and there’s more applause.

“Well that was something different, wasn’t it now? Give another hand to Mr Niiick Raaandalll!”

Nick waves at the audience as he walks off the stage, and manages to smile like he means it, but he doesn’t want to be here anymore, doesn’t feel like being around people right now, with one exception.

He walks toward the table in the back corner where he’d noticed Luke. He soon sees him, still chatting with the girl on crutches sitting across from him.

They both look up at Nick when he approaches, and he almost falls over when he sees her.

“Look who I met at physical therapy this evening.”

“Nick,” she calls out and starts to hoist herself up on her crutches, but Nick moves faster and bends down to pull her into a hug.

“Clem! Damn it’s good to see you.” He gives her another squeeze. “Almost didn’t recognize you without your hat.”

She beams. “I gave it to A.J. Hey, nice job up there by the way. Can’t be easy to talk about those things to a bunch of strangers who probably would rather not hear about walker related stuff.”

“Yeah, good stuff, when you weren’t rambling and getting morbid toward the last bit there.” Luke reaches across the table and claps him on the shoulder.

“It was a morbid time,” Clem remarks, taking a sip of her drink.

“Exactly,” Nick says. “And no one else up there was talking about it.” He glances at Clem’s mug as she puts it down. “Hey, did you give the bartender a fake ID? You’re definitely not 21.”

“I’m 17, and it’s ginger ale.” Clementine cocks an eyebrow. “Y’know back when I was 11, this guy asked me to drink moonshine with him.”

“Sounds pretty irresponsible of him.” Nick leans forward. “Speaking of irresponsible, you better let me have the rest of your drink, Luke, since both of us gotta drive home pretty soon, and if you don’t I’m liable to order something way too strong.”

“I’ll order us another round of ginger ales then, since you still gotta be saved from yourself.”

“And you still gotta be patronizing.”

Luke ignores him and signals at the bartender for the drinks. Nick turns to Clem and gazes at her missing left shin, covered by the leg of her jeans, which lies flat against the chair leg below her knee. “Hey, how come you don’t have a snazzy fiberglass prosthetic like Luke here?”

“I’m working on it. There’s a long waiting list and everywhere’s understaffed. I don’t even live in Tennessee - the hospitals in Memphis are less underresourced than the ones in Richmond for some reason, so I was referred here.”

“So where are you staying?”

“With some relatives of my foster parents, just until I get a new leg.”

Luke motions to her cellphone. “Show Nick those pictures you showed me, Clem. You and AJ and your new folks. Oh, and she has a boyfriend now too,” he smirks.

“Damn, they grow up so fast,” he says to Luke as Clem’s ears go red. “How long have you and him been together?”

***

“So how long have you two been together?” the truckdriver asks. He’s a stocky, muscular fellow, with a ponytail and bushy beard. He’d introduced himself as Tripp, and told them he could give them a lift to the settlement he was headed to trade with, where they had some form of medical care.

“We’re not-“ Nick starts.

“We met in first grade,” Luke says.

“Huh,” Tripp says, nonplussed. “First grade.”

Nick chews his lip and stares out the window at the cloudless sky, while Luke asks Tripp something about toothpaste. It had always bothered him when people asked questions or made various shades of comments about what the two of them were. Luke just laughed or brushed them off, and said things like “Nick’s my soul brother.”

Right now it doesn’t help that they’re awkwardly squished into the truck’s passenger seat, with Luke half sitting on his lap.

“First Florida Man and now Santa Trucker,” Nick grumbles while Tripp’s left the vehicle to take a leak. “Why’s everyone gotta assume we’re a couple? Now he thinks we’re elementary school sweethearts.”

Luke gasps and covers his mouth in mock dismay. “You mean we’re not?”

Nick rolls his eyes.

“Anyway why do you care what he or anyone thinks? We know what we are,” Luke says evenly.

“Speak for yourself,” Nick almost replies, but sighs and says nothing.

***

Nick reaches into his fridge and pulls out a bottle of Corona. He cracks the cap off against the kitchen table, sits down, and takes a long pull. Luke was dropping off Clementine, otherwise he might be over at his farmhouse, watching some boring programme on the Smithsonian channel with him, trying to come up with ways to roast the stuffy presenters while Luke laughed and told him to shut up.

He’d been feeling both happy and sad after leaving The Well. Finding out that Clementine was alive had been the best thing that had happened since the walker plague ended about a year ago. But his show had, he felt, been a letdown. Nick thought he’d come off as more pathetic than funny, and the material too drawn-out and dreary for that crowd. He hopes at least someone in that audience found it therapeutic, even if he hadn’t, and his family home still seems depressingly desolate and empty with many of its busted up furnishings yet to be repaired and replaced, and his mother, father, and uncle long gone.

He takes another drink, then lays his head on the table with his arms crossed over it.

His phone buzzes. It’s Luke. “Almost at your place, can I come over? Clem told me some stuff in the car.”

“Sure,” he texts back. ‘Clem told me some stuff’ - what could that mean?

Soon after, he opens the door to find Luke, pale and damp-eyed. “I need a drink,” he says in a choked voice, leaning on his cane.

“Shit, what did she say to you?” Nick hurriedly lets him in. “I’ll get you a cold beer.”

“Something stronger.” He limps over to the table and sits down, then takes a sip from Nick’s bottle.

“Um okay. Jim Beam then.” He goes to retrieve it, along with a pair of shot glasses.

After they’ve emptied them, Nick looks at Luke expectantly, with more than a little dread.

“I’d asked Clem earlier what had happened to Jane and Kenny after she and A.J. left in the car with them, but she didn’t want to talk about it - she just told me they were both gone.”

“Okay,” Nick says. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t that surprising that neither Kenny nor Jane had survived, but Nick still feels that stab of grief when he finds out.

“So I asked her again, when I was driving her back. She kept saying I was better off not knowing, but I kept on pressing her...I had to know.”

“Sounds like you.”

“Shut up and pour me another.”

After he’s had some more, and Nick’s almost finished his beer, Luke continues.

“The short, or shorter, version is, Kenny and Jane were both wearing on each other’s last nerve, and Kenny - as you no doubt remember - was already on his way to losing it. And then Jane,” he pauses, running a hand down his face, “does something really, really stupid to provoke Kenny into a fight.”

“What did she do?”

Luke shakes his head. “Shorter version, remember? And they have at it, with poor Clem caught in the middle. It gets to the point where Kenny’s about to kill her.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, so Clem, she, uh, saves Jane’s life and shoots Kenny.” Luke exhales shakily, blinking back tears.

“Florida Man brawls with hot butch chick, is shot dead by 11-year-old-girl. Rest in Peace, Florida Man.” Nick raises his bottle and downs the last of it.

“Can you please be fucking be serious right now!” Luke hisses and slams his fist on the table.

“Sorry,” Nick says quietly. “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.”

Luke frowns and says nothing, but nods slightly. Nick rests a hand on his shoulder for a moment. “Go on.”

“Clem and A.J. keep traveling with Jane for a while longer. Then, um, then Jane...” He trails off, and buries his head in his hands. “Fuck, I need another one.”

“You won’t be able to drive home.”

“I don’t care.”

“Alright, stay over.” He pours them another shot. “To Clem.”

They clink glasses, drink, and Luke takes a shaky breath.

“Clem found Jane dead - I mean, turned - she was, she had hung herself.” He grimaces, and Nick feels a wave of nausea hit him.

“I’m so sorry, Luke.” He moves his chair so he’s next to Luke and puts an arm around his shoulders.

“But, uh, it doesn’t sound like her. Did she feel guilty about Fl-Kenny?”

“No, I dunno, maybe. But that’s not why.” He swallows. “Clem told me she didn’t know why for a long time...and then she did.”

He takes a breath and stares straight at Nick. “It was my fault, Nick. She’d gotten hold of one of those pregnancy tests somewhere, and...fuck, she just couldn’t-“

“No, fuck that, it’s the world’s fault.” Nick, feeling sick to his stomach, cuts him off.

“Fuck, this is like a bad soap. You know what, it doesn’t matter why she did it, Luke. There’s no point thinking about it. That’s what you’ve been telling me all these years when I talk about having to kill Mom, or not saving Pete, or shooting that poor guy on the bridge. ‘Cause they all fuckin’ haunt me.”

“It’s just, it’s messing me up, Nick. Why did we get to stay alive when so many others, almost everyone we knew, all died so horribly?”

Nick shakes his head, “Shit, you sound like me. What’s going on with you? You’ve always been the most upbeat guy I’ve ever known. Even after your folks were killed, you didn’t let it get to you. And when you lost your foot, we joked about it the day after. I thought we were gonna die so many times, and you just kept pushing us onward no matter what.”

“Only ‘cause one of us had to,” Luke mutters.

Nick glares and pulls his arm away. “Don’t make this about me.”

Luke stares hard at him. “If it’s about me, then it’s about you too.”

“What are you saying?”

He rubs the stubble on his chin as if considering something. “You know, maybe if you hadn’t bared your soul tonight, Clem wouldn’t have said anything to me, and I wouldn’t be saying this.”

“Huh? About Jane?”

“No, uh, not that.” Luke sighs and shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m being oblique again.”

Nick eyes him, puzzled. “I’m lost, dude.”

He glances at his watch. It’s almost a quarter to 2. He hasn’t been able to sleep much lately, but after a long round of stand-up, unexpectedly catching up with Clem, and then having this confusing, emotionally wrought, beer and whiskey-soaked conversion with Luke, he feels exhausted.

Nick stands up. “I’m also beat. You wanna turn in?”

“Yeah, soon.” Luke looks thoughtful. “Guess we’re both running overtime tonight.”

“Guess so.” Nick yawns and somewhat reluctantly sits back down.

Luke clears his throat. “So, to clarify, when I was driving Clem back, before I pestered her into telling me about Kenny and Jane, she was asking about you. You know, what you’d been up to the past year, if you were doing alright, if all of stuff you’d talked about up there’d really happened, and-“

“I embellished sometimes,” Nick cuts in. “You know, for humor.”

“Yeah, I was there. I told her that.”

“Good. For the record, I spit that spider out right away, once I’d realized where I was.”

Luke raises his eyebrows, looking slightly disgusted. “Um, okay. Yuck. I’d thought you’d made that whole bit up, actually. But anyway, then she asks me, ‘When are you and Nick gonna get together?’”

“Oh hell, not Clem too.” Nick frowns and pinches his brow, feeling a sharp stab of embarrassment. “What’d you tell her? That we’d been going on play-dates since age six?”

“No, I told her you hate it when people ask stuff like that.”

“Right.”

“And she said, ‘He wouldn’t if you ask.’”

His skin prickles. “What? How would she know? It’s been years, and she-“

Luke holds up his hands to stop him. “That’s pretty much what I said. And she told me it’s cuz of how you talked to her about me when it was just the two of you, and some of what you said up there tonight.”

Nick rubs the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Luke. “She’s a teenage girl, Luke. She’s probably reading way too much into it, seeing what she wants to see.”

“Uh-huh, well, I did answer her question in the end. I said, ‘You know what, I can find out tonight.’”

His pulse pounds in his ears. “Huh? Are you two punkin’ me?”

“Nope.” Luke grins. “But I’d really like to tuck you in.” He puts his hands on Nick’s shoulders. “If you want me to.”

Nick can’t think of anything clever to say to that, so he just nods and lets Luke close the gap between them. Sometimes, though not often, life manages not to be a letdown. Luke’s tongue is warm and thick against his own. He hopes his mouth doesn’t taste like spiders.


End file.
